


Merchandise Fodder

by 3musketears



Series: K's Soft Goro Week 2020 Fics [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Light angst because goro akechi, M/M, Movie Night, Soft Goro Week 2020, sleepover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3musketears/pseuds/3musketears
Summary: Soft Goro Week Day 3 - Sleep and DreamsGoro was waiting for the day when Sojiro Sakura finally had enough of his daughter’s mother’s murderer taking up precious counter space while waiting for his surrogate crime son to come home from his ten part-time jobs. Being discarded and cast out had become commonplace by now; even the foster families who swept him up with promises of stability and inclusion soon changed their minds, sending him back to the same creaky bed and into a deeper depression. To an extent, he’d come to terms with the fact that if killing Akira didn’t chase him off, then nothing would. But that didn’t stop the doubt from filling his limbs with stones until he sunk into the floor or the mattress or whatever empty abyss that would ultimately swallow him whole. Fear made others flee. Fear left Goro paralyzed, reduced to an apparition screaming into the void at a body that couldn’t move.He never anticipated Sojiro suggesting that he stay the night amidst a sudden downpour when he spent time with Akira past Leblanc’s closing.Goro and Akira have a movie night
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: K's Soft Goro Week 2020 Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843141
Comments: 10
Kudos: 202
Collections: Day 3 - Sleep and Dreams





	Merchandise Fodder

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [my friend Astra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralitte/pseuds/astralitte) for betaing this fic!

Goro was waiting for the day when Sojiro Sakura finally had enough of his daughter’s mother’s murderer taking up precious counter space while waiting for his surrogate crime son to come home from his ten part-time jobs. Being discarded and cast out had become commonplace by now; even the foster families who swept him up with promises of stability and inclusion soon changed their minds, sending him back to the same creaky bed and into a deeper depression. To an extent, he’d come to terms with the fact that if killing Akira didn’t chase him off, then nothing would. But that didn’t stop the doubt from filling his limbs with stones until he sunk into the floor or the mattress or whatever empty abyss that would ultimately swallow him whole. Fear made others flee. Fear left Goro paralyzed, reduced to an apparition screaming into the void at a body that couldn’t move. 

He never anticipated Sojiro suggesting that he stay the night amidst a sudden downpour when he spent time with Akira past Leblanc’s closing. 

It didn't make any sense. Goro was and always would be a wretched, horrible creature, cursed from birth to burden others with his mere presence. That alone would be reason enough to send him out in the rain, where perhaps it could wash away the blood on his hands, letting it taint the downpour swirling into the sewer grates. The fact that he was additionally overstaying his welcome and had personally harmed Sojiro with his crimes only gave the older man more reason to cast him out. 

He could have said no. Frankly, he _should_ have said no. And yet, all Akira had to do was give Goro the most brilliant smile he’d ever seen to sweep him into the attic. 

“I think it’s about time we had our first romantic movie night, don’t you think?” Akira asked as he bustled around setting up the chunky old TV. While Goro knew his own concept of ‘romantic’ was undoubtedly warped beyond belief, this didn’t quite fit his perception of how the general population interpreted it either. A romantic movie night entailed two young lovers in a theater with no snacks to embarrassingly shove down their gullets. The general population was also heteronormative as fuck, so the shorter girl would rest her head on her stacked boy-toy’s shoulder as the bland charmless love interests unconvincingly fell in love on screen after a few chance meetings. 

The couch he’d helped Akira drag to the opposite side of the room was so lumpy that there _had_ to be a corpse hidden in the worn cushions. Goro’s goal for tonight was to figure out if the body belonged to a human or several large rodents in close proximity. Its wooden arms were adorned with rows of cat claw marks and other smaller dents. He knew Akira was a weirdo who cleaned for _fun_ , but no dusting or vacuuming could truly rid every surface of cat hair. There had to be enough to make an entirely new cat altogether. Maybe one who couldn’t speak. 

Despite there being only two of them, Akira had three large bowls of snacks, enough to reasonably satiate at least three other people. Akira’s aforementioned cleaning hobby would likely be a godsend by the end of the evening.

“I still don’t know what movie we're watching,” Goro replied. Akira inserted a disc into the DVD player and joined Goro on the couch. Goro intentionally sat on the very edge of the couch to leave space for Akira and the snacks in spite of its size, but Akira just slid right next to him, their thighs touching. The butterflies in Goro’s stomach snorted cocaine and went ballistic.

Akira leaned over Goro's lap to grab a blanket and drape it over the two of them. The first snack bowl—filled with classic buttery popcorn that had been popped in Leblanc's kitchen—rested on Akira's lap. "Trust me, I think you're gonna like it," Akira said, "or maybe you'll hate it and we'll have fun tearing it apart."

A few commercials for slightly dated movies Goro had never even heard of played on the boxy screen. Due to his involvement in the media world these past two years, he at least knew most more recent films. Anything before then was lost on him; the orphanages didn't have cable and none of the foster families kept him long enough to take him out to a movie. With his mom, it was always her turning on Featherman and sitting him down on a pillow in front of the TV to keep him occupied.

The menu select screen was a gaudy display of colorful cakes and pies in sinister dark shadows. A bad 3-D model of a costumed actor threw a pie at the screen, the crust splitting open to reveal all the options and a blood-red cherry filling. Goro gave Akira an unimpressed side-eye. " _The Cake Knight_?"

"Yeah. I saw the sequel in theaters with Ryuji and we had fun, so I rented the first one. I figured you'd like it better than some of the other stuff I have." Akira pointed to the little stack resting on the same desk where Goro knew he crafted lockpicks and Megido Bombs, as if any high schooler would do that.. Once again, none of the titles rang a bell, but the graphics on the spines of the boxes gave their genres away. The romances and their delicate pink script better fit Goro's cognition of a normal person's idea of a romantic movie night, yet the thought of sitting through one made his stomach butterflies want to mutate into bees and dig their stingers into his intestines.

With a click of the remote, the movie started. "It's about a crime-stopping caped vigilante baker," Akira explained. A montage of big corporate logos played on screen. "He makes cakes and his nemesis makes pies."

Goro scrunched his nose. "What the fuck is a vigilante baker."

"You'll find out soon." Akira winked, and Goro contemplated pushing him. But that would spill all the popcorn, so he restrained himself.

The movie began with bakers all competing to stay afloat in a world where the money is valued more than artistry or craft. Goro could not fathom where the vigilantism component would come into play once the plot picked up, but he would admit that the themes were already more compelling than he'd anticipated. Unfortunately, he could not appreciate them without also acknowledging the sheer hypocrisy that the initial message had when coming from a large movie studio composed of uncreative, balding businessmen who rolled in billions of yen made from mostly unimaginative films. He spent the next few minutes quietly composing his thoughts into something intelligent before expressing them to Akira.

"The conflict between genuine passion and greed is far more mature than I expected. However, it seems a bit of a moot point when presented by a wealthy corporation fueled by investors and not imagination. I mean, look at _that_." Goro pointed a gloved finger at a ridiculous cannon that shot pies at the businesses owned by the antagonist's competitors. "You can easily tell a compelling story with the antagonist using advertising tactics and internal sabotage as his choice weapons. This is all clearly meant to sell toys."

Akira laughed and scooped up a handful of popcorn. "Did you seriously just try to tell me a pie cannon isn't imaginative? It's at least more creative than just using guns." He held the bowl up towards Goro's face and shook it slightly. "Do you want some?"

While the smell was tempting, this was clearly a diversion. "No. And alright, I concede that this artillery is more interesting, but it adds nothing to the message or themes! It's merely a gimmick meant to perpetuate the very same business model that the Cake Knight seeks to combat. They didn't use a pie cannon because it sounded _fun_ , they used it to steal some cash from suckers who can't say no when their children ask for cheap plastic contraptions that produce second-rate sound effects."

"But the Proof of Justice is high quality."

“Oh, _absolutely_. The construction of the toys sold for these live-action films never even begins to rival the interactive models that companion shows like Phoenix Ranger Featherman R."

A piece of popcorn found its way into his open mouth. Goro made a muffled surprised noise when the butter hit his taste buds. Akira fed himself another piece. “You’re really cute when you get all riled up about something.”

“Cute”, like romance, was uncharted territory in a sense, though in a different way. He knew how to cast a rose-tinted screen over an entire population, feeding them symmetrical smiles and ditzy antics in between intelligent remarks. Fitting a mold was no daunting task, not with all the practice he had. Whether it be cheerful teen heartthrob or ruthless teen hitman, it was a mere flick of a switch. Day and night.

The middle area, sunsets of several hues far more intricate than the simple sky blue or pitch black, was where the trouble lay. He knew how to throw the sun into the sky and fit the general consensus on the definition of cute flawlessly. Yet, stripped of end-goals and missions, he was an enigma in limbo without definition. Either dawn or dusk, but also both at once. Goro liked hard lines and clear cut scenarios; dabbling in the grey brought up those pesky little emotions and pushed him down a hellish tunnel that eventually ended with him slamming headfirst into a rock wall of guilt he dared not climb.

In his mind, he had to be one or the other, lest he be rendered too overwhelmed and confused to maintain the facade of proper functioning. Murder was bad. So was he.

“I’m not cute. I’m evil.”

Goro tried to blend his comment seamlessly with their protocol witty banter, but the superhero’s endless cliché quips exposed Goro’s as the odd one out. Fuck this movie and its blatant pandering towards bored middle-class children and sweaty men. 

"Take the compliment, Goro," Akira said, an order from a leader who seemed to severely overestimate his capabilities in that regard. Blind optimism clouded his perceptions. "I like listening to you talk."

Reaching his hand into the popcorn bowl meant turning his beloved gloves into greasy abominations to mankind. But it also meant giving himself a reason to not respond. Goro clawed at the pile and shoved it into his mouth. He grabbed a bit too much, his cheeks now puffed out like a chipmunk's as he respectfully chewed with his mouth shut. The corners of Akira's mouth arched downward, but he knew how to choose his battles so he returned his attention to the merchandise fodder. Goro followed suit.

He once again found himself internally debating the logic of this universe when the titular Cake Knight found his calling. Spruce Dwayne didn't just want to be a baker who slaved away on wedding cakes for the rest of his days, he wanted to be a change. By day, he oversaw a massive bakery popular with the wealthy. By night, he became the Cake Knight, avidly pouring ingredients in a bowl in a fucking stupid montage and somehow baking several gorgeous cakes within an hour. He then put on a caped costume under his apron and sprinted across rooftops, dropping cakes down into the homes of the needy while also throwing spares at bank robbers. The concept of spare cakes alone boggled Goro's mind.

"Why does he throw cake at the criminals," Goro said, "I don't understand."

"The cake is merely a diversion for when he kicks their asses," Akira explained. "Just like..." he held out the last syllable until he spotted the perfect moment, "NOW!" His excited little fist pump jostled the popcorn, a few kernels spilling onto the floor.

The Cake Knight dropped down on a criminal after throwing his signature cake and whacked him in the head with a rolling pin. When his thug buddies retaliated, Spruce pulled a cookie tray out of thin air and brutally smacked them with it. Goro wondered where the fuck he was hiding it but decided there probably wasn't an explanation aside from the creative team all sharing awkward glances and shrugging in unison.

"Spruce Dwayne is rich, but using cakes as just a diversion is a waste of resources. Wasting food is completely counterintuitive to his goal of feeding the hungry," Goro argued. "And why cake? Would it not be better to start these suffering people on a healthy diet with actual nutrients? Carbs and sugar won't do them any favors. And the creators could get across another important message by pairing a healthy hero against the Pie Clown." On the screen, Spruce traded out his classic wooden rolling pin for one covered in decals matching his suit. Goro leapt out of his seat. " _More merchandise fodder!_ The other one worked just fine! This is so blatantly unnecessary!"

Goro felt the crunch of popcorn beneath his shoes before he noticed the bowl rolling on the floor and the absence of the blanket on his legs. Akira grabbed his arm and gently coaxed him back onto the couch. Then, to Goro's horror, Akira plucked some popcorn from the floor and popped it into his mouth.

" _Ew_. That's disgusting." Goro made a face like Akira had just peeled some flattened roadkill off the street and eaten it.

Akira shrugged. "Five-second rule."

The casualness with which Akira replied made Goro feel like this was something obvious that he should know. The feeling jabbed at him like a bitchy woodpecker. "What's that."

The way Akira's eyes got kinda droopy made the damned bird punch a hole through his skull. "Oh... Well, it's basically like if the food is on the floor for less than five seconds, it’s still good to eat."

"That sounds highly unsanitary. You just ate so much dead skin and cat hair." While a kiss fit in perfectly with the picket fence romantic movie night ideal, Goro would rather not 1) deal with the possibility of having a serious fight or flight reaction to being touched so intimately when he would be stuck with Akira worrying about him all night and 2) eat Morgana's fur.

“You’re not wrong,” Akira admitted, “but it's something kids do because, like you said, wasting food is bad. If they accidentally drop something or spill an entire bowl in a moment of excitement, they don’t want all of that perfectly good food to just get thrown away.”

In the movie, the Pie Clown pulled out an even bigger cannon that shot out even bigger pies. Goro wanted to know what kind of oven he used to make those pies and how much ammunition he actually had at his disposal. These pies exploded upon contact with buildings, spreading splintered crust and sticky filling everywhere. One extra tried to eat some off the street, but a key lime pie to the head took him out.

“What wins in your mind, Goro?” Akira asked, “Sanitation or conserving resources?” He tilted his head expectantly, waiting for another analytical tirade. Goro brought his not-butter-covered hand up to his chin and pieced together an argument while the film continued. 

“There’s no doubt in my mind that this was merely one of several takes they did during filming. A lot of the large pies are clearly computer-generated. Some of the graphics are simply abysmal and fail to stand the test of time. But the pie that hit that extra in the head was real, as was the filling on the street. In filming that one five-second shot alone, the props team must have had to bake at least a dozen key lime pies, and that’s the bare minimum.” Goro took the remote from Akira’s lap and tried to rewind to that scene. He overshot and they wound up at the beginning of this heinous resource massacre, but that only served to bring more destruction to his attention. “Oh! And while the Pie Clown uses his cannon, all his henchmen are still throwing smaller pies by hand!” Goro paused the movie and tried to count all the pies he saw. He squinted and tried to keep track by pointing his finger at them, but the shot was too crowded. Which was appropriate from a cinematography standpoint, but currently inconvenient. Goro awkwardly waved his hand at the screen. “That’s a lot of perfectly good pie! If they’d elected to animate this movie instead, then this wouldn’t be a problem. The comic book medium better translates to animation anyway; it allows for more stylizing and suspension of disbelief when characters pull cookie trays out of thin air.”

“And animated products always get better toys,” Akira commented.

“Yes!” Goro agreed, “They do!” With some embarrassment, Goro realized he was practically bouncing in his horribly lumpy seat as he spoke, though the sting was lessened by the fondness so prominent in Akira’s aura that even Goro couldn’t deny it. His cheeks heated up like raw dough in the oven, never to return to their original state. The consequences of having someone in his life who paid attention to him. 

Akira laughed and wrapped his arm around Goro's shoulders. It felt like a strip of heat across his back, though after the initial surprise, Goro did not find it entirely unpleasant. “I'm really glad you're getting so into the movie. To be completely honest, I wasn't sure how you'd like it. But anytime spent with you is enjoyable.”

How on earth could he say such sappy sentimental bullshit and manage to sound like he meant every word? Each syllable was a swing of a pickaxe to a fortress of stone, not enough to crack any holes but capable of carving some dents. Everything Goro knew about Akira pointed towards him being genuine—his honesty, his compassion, and his willingness to not only forgive but also pursue a romantic relationship with a boy with a sickness so deep-rooted in his psyche that it pressed a loaded gun into his shaky palms. Yet, his young impressionable mind was poisoned with doubt. Doubt that kept him complicit with a murderous scheme when offered the mere table scraps of positive praise and now left him struggling to accept a full meal.

“My sole purpose is to uncover the truth,” he believed. But when the truth was spelled out for him, loud and clear, he shrunk back and maintained, “I _decide_ the truth.” Maybe one day, Goro would stop pondering how great it would be to skip ahead to the part where he was happy or dead. At his current point, he couldn't entirely fathom one without the other. When the day he could finally arrived, his perception of the truth and objective reality might finally reconcile. 

“I enjoy spending time with you as well,” Goro croaked. Akira knew (better than most ever would) what he was signing up for when they got together, so he accepted it for the time being and kissed Goro's cheek. Goro resisted the urge to hold a hand up to the skin where Akira's lips made contact to see if the intense lingering warmth he felt was real or simply an illusion of his own making. 

Spruce Wayne tuned into the news to find a message from the Pie Clown informing the public that he had kidnapped some random woman and would bake her into a giant pie if the Cake Knight did not show up. Her face, though partially concealed by the gag around her mouth, seemed familiar enough, but not so much that Goro could form an association with a name or any defined characteristics. Apparently, Spruce gave a shit about her, seeing as he immediately suited up and rushed to her aid. Or he just saw how low cut her spaghetti strap pencil dress was and decided her boobs were worth his time. 

“Has she been a major role in this movie or is she just some random woman?” Goro asked.

Akira shook his head, “Goro…she's been his love interest the entire time. How did you notice one extra trying to eat pie off of the ground and not a major recurring character?”

“ _Character_?” Goro scoffed, “Oh please, I wouldn't give the writers credit for a whole developed character when all I see is cardboard with heels. Name me one thing we know about her personality.”

“She's a journalist that he met at a bar.”

“Clichéd. Doesn’t that other hero, _gah,_ what’s his face?” Goro scoured his minimal pop culture exposure for an answer. He found it somewhere between the sci-fi trivia and some more trauma. “Supper Man! Doesn't Supper Man already have a reporter girlfriend? That's completely unimaginative. I'm already yawning.”

Journalist girlfriend did a whole lot of high pitched screaming even though she was locked in an underground lair under a bakery where no human being would ever hear her. Goro had to give some kudos to the actress for putting more effort into her cries for help than the writers did into giving her a script from which she could actually develop a distinct character from. 

“We have way more chemistry than they do,” Akira said, and Goro found it much easier to take the compliment when it was at the detriment of these rich straight people.

“I suppose you are correct.” The combination of being bored by the heterosexuals and wanting to prove that he and his boyfriend were so much cuter than said heterosexuals gave Goro the little spark that he needed to rest his head on Akira’s shoulder. He got instant gratification in the form of Akira petting his hair. As the movie reached its climax and final battle, he was at his most calm.

“The CGI is really inconsistent here,” Goro mumbled, “but I guess the fight choreography looks alright.” 

“That’s your shortest comment of the night,” Akira observed neutrally. 

Goro yawned, for real this time, not merely as an expression of his distaste for cliches. “Fuck off, I’m tired.” 

Akira pulled the blanket up so only Goro’s head remained uncovered and wrapped his arms around him. “Am I gonna be your pillow for the rest of the night, honey?”

“No.”

Goro let himself ease into Akira’s embrace, the blanket and the warm arms cocooning him. Most days he felt like a horrible worm begging to choke on dirt or get flattened by a shoe. Akira thought enough love could grant him wings and make him beautiful someday. It was a naive, blindly idealistic notion, but the rush of serotonin he got from it was enough to loosen his chains a bit. The knowledge that Akira would keep on believing in him no matter how little of that unwavering faith he truly deserved kept him going some days.

Underneath the blankets, Akira’s thumb slid under Goro’s glove to rub his wrist. Goro didn’t resist, he let Akira remove them completely and rest them on the arm of the couch. With their fingers intertwined, Goro became aware of how clammy his hands were. If Akira noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He just pulled Goro closer and kissed his forehead. Over a decade of rarely being touched— much less in a positive way— left Goro highly sensitive to anything as little as a shoulder brushing past him, so the wet lips on his skin startled a little giggle out of him. Should Akira try to legitimately tickle him, he’d probably end up cackling like a psychotic hyena and snorting like a fucking pig. And then Akira would have the nerve to tell him he was adorable or something equally absurd. 

“How’d I end up with such a cute boyfriend?” Akira asked with a big dopey grin. He held a piece of popcorn up to Goro’s mouth, which Goro sleepily accepted. “And don’t try to tell me you’re evil again. You’re only evil in the same way Ann says those mega deluxe whatever crepes she likes are evil.” Goro recalled Takamaki specifically saying she was _addicted_ to those caloric monstrosities. 

“So I’m probably ill-advised given your career path,” Goro said, because verbalizing the idea that Akira was _addicted_ to him would keep him up all night, trembling from a serotonin overdose at the thought that it wasn’t just him being completely pathetic. They’d be on equal footing, two fools in love instead of one worthless creature clinging to the saint who tolerated him.

“I guess that was true when I was a Phantom Thief, but I think we both know I’ve got a thing for danger,” Akira teased. He fed Goro more popcorn as he spoke, “I meant that I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

Ah. If Goro tried to say it back he would either explode or cry. And the popcorn was salty enough as is, his tears would not enhance the flavor palette in any way. The best he could manage was to hum a little and squeeze Akira’s hand a bit tighter.

Spruce Dwayne reunited with his love after saving the city. Goro got incredibly flustered kissing his actual boyfriend on the lips, so he failed to comprehend how actors made out with people they weren’t really dating without feeling awkward, especially on camera. But he also knew he tended to be the exception and not the rule when it came to such things.

Akira was his exception in that regard, the singular soul who reached out to him and therefore the only person who could make him feel truly at ease. He could go off on impassioned tangents about movies without being made fun of or told to shut his big mouth. He could open himself up to trying something as new and terrifying as romance. He could crash and burn with destruction all around him and knew that strong arms would be ready to catch him as he fell. And with that immeasurable trust, Goro was able to quell his rampant thoughts, let his eyelashes flutter shut, and fall asleep in Akira’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are HIGHLY appreciated!


End file.
